


clap your hands (i believe, i believe)

by words_unravel



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fairies, skunks, and Spencer Smith - oh my!</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	clap your hands (i believe, i believe)

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** written for [](http://bandomvalentine.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://bandomvalentine.livejournal.com/)**bandomvalentine** 2011 - _Brendon/Spencer, fairies!_ ]
> 
> [ **Artwork:** [](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/)**aredblush** ]
> 
> [ **Warnings:** Fairies? Ridiculousness? Awesome drawings from [](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/)**aredblush**? Wait, that last part's a guarantee.]
> 
> [ **A/N:** Okay, confession time. I chose this prompt entirely because I had seen that [](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/profile)[**aredblush**](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/) picked it for art. I, like all authors most likely, always want to have art for my fic; however, it generally doesn't happen. So this time I decided to take matters into my own hands and see if she would be willing to collaborate. And she was! (Go me, btw.) So be sure to go tell [](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://aredblush.livejournal.com/)**aredblush** how utterly awesome she is.  <3]
> 
> [ **A/N 2:** That being said, please forgive any mistakes and my obvious lack of knowledge about soap operas. Also, this seems more like a love story between Brendon and Bogart, but well. Yeah.]

  


The first crash has Brendon tumbling ass-over-end off the bush where he'd been holding a conversation about the lovely juiciness of wild boysenberry leaves with a young caterpillar. Well, that's what Brendon _hopes_ they were talking about, his juvenile Pillarish is a little rusty. Regardless, the loud noise startles him enough that he flails and slips backward off his branch.

He catches himself seconds from landing, close enough to the ground that his eyes cross a little as he stares at the patchy grass near his face. On occasion, wings _do_ have their uses. More often than not, however, they generally just get in the way. It's especially annoying when he's digging around in the flowers for nectar or following Jon on a visit to Tom's place. Tom's a little paranoid–hilarious, considering he's friends with Jon, the most laid-back skunk Brendon's _ever_ met–and while his burrow is incredibly spacious, getting there is a tight squeeze. Wings are definitely a nuisance then.

Tom's a little suspicious about fairies. Even after more than a year, he still looks at Brendon a little funny on occasion. It's really sad, actually. In Brendon's opinion, Tom's the fuzziest, cutest bunny rabbit that he knows. All he really wants to do is pet him and cuddle and take naps, but Tom had taken one look at Brendon and stated _No_ very firmly. It was disappointing to say the least. Tom's nose is adorable–

Another crash startles him, pulling out of his thoughts. And his concentration.

" _Oof!_ "

Brendon just lays there for a minute. Fortunately, he'd managed to face-plant _on_ the grass, so at least he isn't eating dirt. Again. Shaking his head, Brendon resolutely does not think of that time Brent talked him into–No. Not thinking about it.

Scrambling up, Brendon dusts himself off. A couple small tears around his knees make him grimace; Kara's not going to be happy about repairing them again. Lately, she's really been on him about stuff like that. His 21st life anniversary is coming up and Brendon knows that everyone is looking at him to settle down soon. It's not something he likes to think about.

The sound of drums, however–the noise is very similar to the leaf drums during Harvest Moon celebrations and Age ceremonies–is _definitely_ something Brendon wants to check out. It's continuous now, ricocheting across the forest floor. The pattern is high and low, the rhythm lively and quick. Brendon makes his way closer, intrigued, wings fluttering an unconscious accompanying beat as he moves.

~*~

At the edge of the woods, he hesitates, touching down behind a small sapling. Brendon bites his lip. It's not like he hasn't heard all the stories passed around the Hill by the Elders, but with all the things to do in his forest, he's never felt curious enough to explore outside of it.

The beat changes as he stands there, syncopated and quicker than before. The leaf drums are the best part about celebrations, they really are, and it's just too intriguing. He darts across the open area, keeping low to the ground. When he tumbles to a stop, the sound is even louder, practically vibrating straight through him. Brendon _loves_ it.

He does, however, take a moment to run his hands over the scratchy surface of the wall. It's prickly and makes indentations in his hands, like when he does handstands on the branches of his favorite tree too long. Another change in the beat has him scurrying around the corner, diving behind some boxes. With his heart pounding wildly in his hears, Brendon looks around

It reminds him of Tom's cave. If Tom's cave had cool gray walls and shelves with a bunch of boxes. And tools. That's the biggest hammer he's ever seen. Brent would be _so_ jealous of that hammer.

One of the boxes has the words _SPENCER SMITH_ scrawled across it. Brendon hums to himself. Spencer is fine name, plus he likes the way it rolls off his tongue. Spencer Smith. Spencersmith. Spencersmiiiiiiii–

That's about the time that Brendon becomes aware of the silence. His heartbeat picks up again.

Drums. Right.

Carefully, Brendon peaks around from his hiding spot.

And falls in love.

Across the room is a black and gold contraption unlike anything he's _ever_ seen. Which, okay, not all that surprising really, given that he's not really seen humans or their stuff before, but _still_.

It's drums like he'd originally thought, but these are shinyomgsoshiny and there's so _many_ of them. Different sizes, hooked together and–Brendon's eyes widen–there's one for _feet_. There's a crash in the silence and Brendon glances further up and sees a round metal thing. And hands.

Hands that are connected to arms that are connected to–

Brendon tilts his head.

There's a beard, so Brendon's going to go with a human boy. But damn, he's almost prettier than Sarah and Sarah's the cutest pixie Brendon knows. Sarah also makes the best honeydrop cookies. His stomach feels a little hollow and Brendon kind of wishes he had some of those cookies right now–

A long, lonely howl splits the air and Brendon hops backwards, a little 'poof' of dust exploding in the air. The human– _Spencer!_ Brendon's brain provides nicely–glances over his way and Brendon ducks back down behind his box again. The animal continues to howl and Spencer yells, "Quiet!"

The dog hesitates for half a second and then starts whining again. A huge sigh has Brendon leaning around his box, and he watches as Spencer gets up.

And up and up.

Brendon's not sure, seeing as how this is his first actual human, but this one seems really, _really_ tall.

When the door opens, the dog tries to make a break for it. Spencer's quick though, snatching him up as he runs across the threshold. "What has got you so riled up, Bogie?"

The dog whines, stretching out of Spencer's arms, still trying to get into the room. Brendon can see him wriggling around and he waves. Dogs love him. Well, Marshall likes him. At least Brendon _thinks_ Marshal likes him. Unlike Johnson, he totally hasn't tried to eat Brendon yet.

Maybe he shouldn't push his luck. This one isn't near as big as the wolves in the forest, but Brendon is still a pretty good bite-size morsel. He ducks back out of sight again.

Brendon hears, "Come on, you silly dog," and peaks back around in time to see Spencer reach out and hit something on the wall. The most awful racket Brendon's ever heard starts up, and a second later he realizes it's getting darker. Turning around, he squeaks in terror and scrambles to get out. In record time he's all the way back to the sapling, watching as a door closes off Spencer's cave.

The sun is starting to set now, which means he should probably start heading back to Summer Hill. His family gets a little weird when he stays out after dark. With a big sigh and one last glance over his shoulder, Brendon starts the trek home.

The sun is midway in the sky and Brendon's currently ensconced in the kitchen window of Spencer's house. The view is perfect; he can see pretty much everything from his perch.

He doesn't think Spencer been awake very long, not from the way run he's into one corner of the counter twice and nearly put milk in a cabinet. Watching Spencer stand and stare at a bright silver contraption for ages before reaching out and pushing a button is a pretty good clue, too. A bright orange light had come on then, the machine producing bubbling sounds. The sweet, sweet aroma filtering through the air seemed to perk him up.

The smell makes Brendon's mouth water. Once there was band of traveling fairies that had wandered through Summer Hill carrying chunks of a dark, brown bean. Brendon's family had traded for a couple, but after not sleeping for two whole days, Brendon was cut off. This wonderful aroma is practically calling his name, reminding him of those beans.

Spencer wanders out of the kitchen just as Brendon's contemplating the best way to get inside. He flops down, dropping out of sight until all Brendon can see is the top of his head. Brendon frowns. Boring, sitting is borrrrin–

He only slips off the ledge a little when the black square on the wall flickers to life, erupting in sound that's loud enough that he can hear it outside.

Now this is more like it.

~*~

A ray of lingering evening sunlight reflects off the window, causing Brendon to squint. A glance over his shoulder shows that the sun is nearly set, darkness hovering on its edges. He turns back toward the window, cupping his hands to block the glare and looks in again. Spencer's half-turned away, chopping up onions and singing along with the music that's coming from the other room. There's a little hip shake thrown in that makes Brendon grin.

A moment later, Brendon drops his hands, smile fading. He doesn't want to leave–the entire day has been _amazing_ –and he wants more. More music, more Picture Box, more Bogart, more... _everything_. Humans are really, really fascinating. And all their _stuff_. Oh man, he likes that, too.

With a great big sigh, Brendon hops off the window ledge and flits to the ground. Reluctant to leave, he drags his way back to the tree line.

One last time, he glances back toward Spencer's house. A light flickers on as the darkness finally settles.

Brendon sneezes, waving away the resulting little white cloud. Dusting off his pants only makes the mess worse.

A whine comes from the floor and Brendon peers over the edge of the counter. Bogart is sitting there, head tilted up. He whines again and Brendon tells him, "Well Kara is _definitely_ not going to be happy with this, you know." The dog yips once and then starts panting, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Brendon grins.

He'd waited and waited and waited this morning for Spencer to show up, but it wasn't until Bogart had wandered into the kitchen that Brendon realized Spencer wasn't even home. The dog looked forlorn, all by himself, and that made Brendon sad. Also, he was absolutely _dying_ to get inside and check stuff out. Near the back of the house, he'd found a window cracked just wide enough. Without hesitation, he'd slipped right under it.

That room had been a little weird, all white opaque glass, shiny water spouts, and smelling like witch hazel juice. But Bogart was sitting in the doorway, waiting.

Bogart whines again, breaking Brendon's train of thought. He's still leaning over the edge of the counter, still covered in something that tastes a lot like milkweed cream but in powder form. It's weird. Human are weird.

Spencer is also apparently a clean freak because there hadn't been a single drop of coffee bean drink left. With a lamenting sigh, Brendon had hugged the container for a moment and let himself get lost in the imaginary rich aroma.

Actually, that's what started the whole mess. Face resting against the cool glass, he'd been drifting in lovely daydreams of steaming bean drink when Bogart had barked, clearly impatient for attention. Startled, Brendon jumped, stumbling backwards over a nearby container–because these things always happen to Brendon–and unfortunately, it had toppled with him, spilling all over the counter and thus, all over him.

Bogart yips again and then runs out of the room. "Hey!" Brendon yells after him, but the dog is back a second later, dropping a yellow ball on the ground.

"Um." Brendon frowns. "I'm not really sure I'm the best candidate for a game of toss-and-fetch?" Bogart bumps the ball again with his nose and Brendon rolls his eyes.

"Fine, but this is _so_ not going to end well."

~*~

Brendon and the dog are sprawled across the carpet in the Picture Box room. Bogart's panting, splayed out on his side, and Brendon's not much better off. From the corner of his eye, he sees some leftover lint stuck to his head, a remnant from his trek under the long chair. With a weary arm, he plucks it off and tosses it. Bogart follows his movements with his eyes, but doesn't move at all. He looks like he's about to fall asleep, and Brendon can feel his own eyelids drooping. Who knew toss-and-fetch could be so exhausting? He did manage to keep that one thing from falling off the shelf though, so that's good. Playing with Bogie is absolutely awesome. Spencer has an awesome dog, so much better than Marshall and company. _Definitely_ better than Johnson.

Tilting his head toward the dog, Brendon says, "I commend you on your awesomeness, kind Sir." Bogart finally moves, crawling on his stomach until he can nudge at Brendon with his nose.

"Aw, puppy, I like you, too." Brendon wraps his arms across Bogart's snout, squeezing.

~*~

The next day Brendon figures out how to turn the Picture Box on.

~*~

Two days after that, Brendon learns how to use the game-control-thingy.

Things settle into some semblance of a routine after that. Usually Spencer's gone by the time that Brendon gets there, but Bogart is always patiently waiting in the doorway of the 'bath room'. It made sense, once Brendon thought about it.

Anyway.

So there's a routine now - Spencer leaves, Brendon squeezes under the window, and then he spends the entire day exploring. Or watching the Picture Box (which he's taken to calling PB for short). Or playing toss-and-fetch. Or naps.

Brendon's a big fan of naps, oh yes. Spencer has the _best_ pillows. They're soft enough to curl around him, but firm enough that he doesn't suffocate. It doesn't hurt that they smell like apples and the forest and something that must just be a Spencer-smell.

(Although he's really glad that Spencer's schedule doesn't interrupt this one story he likes to watch on the PB. It nearly killed him the first time Spencer had actually been home because Brendon was _sure_ that he was going to miss out on whether or not Derrick had really come back from the dead to stop the marriage of his wife. To his brother, no less. And that was after she'd given Derrick's baby away and–

Brendon knows he's probably overinvested.)

And then there's the _music_.

The day that Brendon accidentally turns on the Music Player–and he worked really hard to get all the fairy dust off, okay? It was _loud_. He's not responsible for his dust when things are _loud_ –opened up a whole new world.

He's watched the one PB show that plays stories to music. Some of them make sense and some of them don't, but Brendon loves the colors and the people and the sounds. The Music Player doesn't have very many these; however, to his utter delight, it has a million and one songs. So many different types of music that it makes Brendon's head spin. He spends entire _days_ listening to them.

~*~

As much as he loves all these things, the days where Spencer stays home are Brendon's favorite.

Spencer's kind of ridiculous. And dorky. Just the other day Brendon caught him sliding around the house in a white t-shirt, some underwear, and socks.

Singing to a ladle. _Seriously._

One of the best things _ever_ , though, is Spencer's friend, Ryan. He's only visited a couple times, but Brendon wants to live in his scarves. They'll sit in the back yard with their bottles drinks, Spencer in his ratty t-shirt and cut-off shorts and Ryan lounging around impeccably dressed. His voice is impossibly flat no matter how he answers. Spencer punches him _a lot_ , but Brendon catches the concern on his face more than once when Ryan's not looking.

Brendon learns a lot about Spencer. How much he cares about his friend and his dog, of course, but other things too. Like when he's frustrated, Spencer will play his drums so hard that Brendon actually has listen outside of the cave. But when he's in a good mood, the rhythms are tricky and quick, fast enough to make Brendon's head spin.

He knows that Spencer loves to cook. That he talks to his mom and dad at least once a week. That he's just a good person, really. Sometimes Brendon wishes he was big or that Spencer was of his kind; he's pretty sure that they'd be awesome friends.

But he tries not to think about it too often though.

Brendon knows he should slow down, but puts on a little burst of speed instead. It's dark, the air carrying the weight of coming rain and he wants to get to Spencer's before it hits. A moment later, he clips a bush, somersaulting four times before righting himself.

It just adds to his bad mood. His parents had spent most of the day making him work around the Hill, even sending Jon away when he'd shown up, nose peaking around the tree. With a sympathetic look, Jon had let himself be waved off. Brendon watched the sun go down with a heavy heart. He hadn't gotten to see Spencer all day and it sucked.

Things got worse over dinner, his dad speaking to him about how worrying Brendon's behavior was to the family, to the rest of their community. Brendon tried to talk to them, but they wouldn't listen, the whole thing dissolving into a shouting match.

And now he's in the dark, heading toward Spencer's.

Even though he knows Spencer will be home, it's still a relief when he breaks the tree line and finds soft yelling light spilling out of the house. Only when he gets to his window, Spencer's not alone.

The lights are lower than usual, two candles highlighting the table in the corner of the kitchen. A girl– _pretty_ , Brendon thinks uneasily–is standing next to Spencer. She touches his arm and he turns, the look on his face softening as she tells him something. He smiles down at her and something flutters in Brendon's stomach.

_Oh._

He feels kind of dumb now, that he didn't realize Spencer's courting.

It starts to rain and Brendon just sits there in the windowsill, watching. It's a quiet rain, summer heat making it warm as it quickly soaks him to the skin. He watches Spencer dip his head down and when his lips touch hers, Brendon finally realizes exactly what the horrible, twisty feeling in his stomach means. He slumps sideways, head reeling. Glancing back inside, he watches Spencer rest his fingertips lightly on her neck.

Stupid. He's so _stupid_.

He thumps his head against the glass a couple of times, eyes closed. With a giant sigh, he opens them in time to see Spencer look over. For a split second, he considers staying there and letting Spencer find him, but the punishment for being seen is exile. So he lets the thought go immediately and hops off the window ledge, wet wings dragging, into the bush below. The leaves offer some protection from the rain and Brendon watches through them as Spencer glances out the window. He's gone a second later and Brendon curls up, chin on his knees as the rain comes down.

~*~

Something wakes him and he jerks, nearly falling off his branch. It's still dark, but at least the rain has stopped. Bogie howls from inside, a sad sound that echoes through Brendon, making him _remember_. Scrambling out of the bush, Brendon flits back up to the window ledge.

He can see the dog, sitting back on his haunches, muzzle raised up to the window. He howls again and Brendon leans forward, hands on the glass. There's movement from the living room and Brendon knows Spencer will be coming to check it out. Sure enough, a moment later he enters the kitchen.

Brendon waits almost too long, getting one last glimpse. He whispers, "Bye, puppy. I'll miss you, too," and steps back off the ledge again just as Spencer glances up.

Brendon makes his way back to the forest. He's not going to cry, he's _not_. The summer rain's left the air even thicker with heavy moisture and Brendon blames that for the difficulty he has seeing where he's going.

Sighing loudly, Brendon drops a berry to the ground. It barely misses Tom's left ear and he glares up at Brendon–not that Brendon even notices–before looking over at Jon. Sprawled on his back, Jon just flicks his tail and watches as Tom rolls the berry into a hole at the base of a tree nearby.

Three more sighs and Tom's actually got a berry stain on the top of his head now, when he explodes. "Oh my god, Urie. What is your deal?"

Startled, Brendon jerks, losing his grip on the berry in his hands. It lands next to Jon, who's moved on to lightly dozing. He blinks an eye open, unperturbed, and hums. Brendon lands next to him. Jon's belly is warm from the sunbeam he's been lying in and Brendon runs his hands through the fur there. It's calming and Jon's kind of stupid for it.

Tom's just staring at them, waiting for an answer. " _Brendon._ "

"Hmm?" he responds absently. Brendon flops across Jon's belly, wiggles into the warmth. He's been taking a lot of naps lately. Even his family's beginning to look concerned. Jon's big on napping though, so he's been pretty receptive to all the cuddling. Jon's a cuddle whore anyway, but being a skunk can be a little off-putting to some. Brendon sighs again, breath ruffling the fur around his face.

"What the _hell_ is going on with you, Urie? You've done nothing but moan and groan and sigh and generally doing a damn good impression of that weeping willow in the South Forest." Tom's tone is disgruntled, but there's concern underlying it.

Finally, Brendon just mumbles, "Love sucks."

"All you need is love, man," Jon responds. Brendon can practically hear Tom's eye roll, even if he can't see him.

"Go back to sleep, Jon," Tom huffs. He hops around so that he can see Brendon's face. Brendon's already reaching out–seriously, _bunny_ –but Tom gives him a stink-eye and hops back just out of reach. Another big sigh and even Jon shifts a little at the despondent sound.

"Okay, seriously. What did you do?" Brendon frowns and Tom does roll his eyes this time, amending, "What happened?"

"I-" Brendon stumbles over the words. He hasn't told any one, not where he's been going and certainly not what he's been doing. But this sucks _so hard_. He misses Spencer. And Bogart. And toss-and-fetch. And drums. And–

"I'm in love with a human," he confesses quietly.

Tom's eyes widen. It makes him look even more ridiculous cute and Brendon's fingers twitch. There's a tiny hitch in Jon's breathing, but nothing else to indicate he's shocked or appalled. Brendon holds his breath.

"A human?" Tom finally says. "Brendon–"

"I know!" Brendon digs his chin deeper into Jon's belly. "I know," he repeats. "But I didn't realize it until last week, okay? I didn't–" Brendon's throat starts to close and he can feel the stinging in the corner of his eyes. He squeezes them shut–he's not going to cry, he _promised_ himself–and then he feels Tom's nose, soft and a little cool, nudge at his arm. Brendon lifts his hand, sliding his fingers over the super-soft fur.

"Oh, Bden," Tom says softly and lets Brendon keeps his fingers right where they are.

~*~

"You should go to the Old Oak," Jon says a while later. They've moved inside Tom's burrow, the air cool and a little musky.

"What?" Brendon asks, just as Tom snorts, "Oh god, Jon, don't start that again."

Brendon leans forward even as Tom makes another scoffing noise. "What about the Old Oak?"

The old oak tree is literally, well, an old oak tree. It's the tallest, oldest one in the forest and Brendon's people hold it in great regard, legend saying it possesses the spirit of the first and most powerful of their people.

"They say that miracles happen when you ask the Old Oak," Jon tells Brendon. "If your heart is true and pure, that is." Tom's making a gagging noise from the next room, obviously skeptical, but Jon just gives Brendon a soft smile, his eyes solemn and warm.

Brendon settles further back into the moss cushion, bites his lip, and thinks.

~*~

He gets into the clearing just as the sunlight trickles down to the forest floor. The morning dew is still heavy and walking up to the tree soaks Brendon's pants.

The Old Oak really _is_ the largest tree Brendon's ever seen, going up and up and up. He gets a little dizzy with his head tilted back so far, so he drops his chin down to his chest. He'd barely slept last night, Jon's words tumbling around and around in his head.

"This is stupid," he mutters, turning around to leave.

A large acorn lands right next to him.

With a startled squeak and another cloud of dust, Brendon whips back around. He glances up again, but the leaves are the only thing that move, swaying lightly with the morning breeze. Brendon huffs out a breath. The Old Oak is so big that when Brendon glances both ways, it's like a wall of tree, and all that he can see. After a moment, he steps closer and places a hand on the rough bark of a root that's sticking up from the ground near him.

It's warm, almost pulsing under his hand. Like a heartbeat.

Brendon closes his eyes and makes a wish.

~*~

Nothing happens.

He's not sure what he was expecting, but the next day passes exactly like the one previously. Brendon doesn't tell anyone he went to make the wish, but Jon watches him like he knows.

So Brendon goes back and tries again, just in case. He even sings to the Old Oak, a Legacy Song that he jazzes up a little with a shuffle step. He feels kind of stupid afterward, but his heart is a little lighter when he leaves the clearing.

It's the same the next day, and for each of the days that follow.

Brendon's slumped back against the base of the tree, right in the middle of re-telling the story where he'd accidentally turned on Spencer's Loud Ground Cleaner Thing and nearly gotten Bogie's tail stuck in the connector tube before getting it switched back off, when he stops mid-sentence.

"I am talking to a tree." Rubbing a hand over his face, Brendon sighs.

It isn't working.

It isn't _going_ to work.

Not that he'd really thought it would. Okay, maybe he had, like, just a tiny smidgen of hope. Minuscule really. But now he's gotta man up and get over himself.

Standing, he turns his face up to the branches and leaves far above him. The sun's managing to peak through and Brendon thinks about sitting on Spencer's windowsill, the afternoon sun giving way to shade. He misses it, still misses Spencer.

"I think it's time to go say goodbye, Old Oak."

Brendon places a hand on the trunk. The roughness reminds him of Spencer's house, maybe that's why he'd been so comfortable leaning against it. A small leaf floats down beside him and he smiles. With a quiet, "Thanks for listening," Brendon makes his way out of the clearing.

~*~

He moves toward Spencer's house, avoiding Summer Hill. Jon waves his tail as he passes by Tom's place, but doesn't stop him. Just as he gets to the tree line, Brendon sets down, fumbling slightly when his feet hit the ground.

It feels like _forever_ since he's been here. So funny, he thinks, that he's just now realizing how much time he's spent here, watching. Stomach twisting, Brendon lifts off again and makes his way closer.

It's a warm day, sun lazy in the sky, so the window is open. Brendon peeks cautiously inside and finds Spencer pacing, the talkie-thing to his ear. His voice is low, and Brendon can see the tension in his shoulders. Spencer wanders closer, voice rising.

"–the vet doesn't have a fuckin' clue, Ryan. They've done every test they have and there's nothing wrong with him. That's what he keeps telling me, but I can barely get him to eat–" Spencer's words are tense and scared and Brendon _hates_ him sounding like that. Spencer squats down, running a hand over Bogart's back. The dog barely moves.

That's when Brendon realizes exactly _who_ Spencer's talking about.

Spencer bites his lip, staring down at his dog with worried frown, and Brendon's halfway over the window threshold before he stops, uncertain. There's not much he can do, not really, not by himself. Maybe his mom can help–No, no, she'd never leave the forest. But if he can take Bogart _to_ her...His mom's a good fairy, she would never turn away a hurt animal. Brendon _knows_ this with every ounce of his being.

Reaching up, Brendon fists his hands in his hair. He's just got to figure out _how_ to get Bogart to Summer Hill. If only his stupid wish had come true, he could help if he was just _big_ –

~*~

Spencer looks up at the loud crash and startled shout. Frowning, he rises, telling Ryan, "I'll call you back in a minute, okay?"

"Ahem."

Brendon looks up to see Spencer standing over him, hip cocked and arms crossed. From this angle Spencer looks bigger than he did even when Brendon was fairy.

He can't seem to make his mouth work, a cycle of _ohmygodohmygod_ running through his head.

It _worked_.

He tries to move, but all of his limbs feel heavy and unwieldy. Spencer huffs and Brendon tunes back in to hear, "–call the cops if you don't tell me exactly what the hell–"

He's interrupted by the sound of sharp, high-pitched barking as Bogart comes tearing around the corner.

Brendon flings his arms wide open and Bogart hops right into his lap, placing sloppy, wet puppy kisses everywhere. Looking up, Brendon finds Spencer watching the both of them, relief and wariness vying for control on his face. They stare at each other.

Bogart licks Brendon's chin, making him laugh. Ducking his chin, he wraps his arms around the wriggling puppy. "I missed you," he whispers. When he looks up, meeting Spencer's blueblue eyes again, he thinks, _I missed you even more_. A slow smile spreads across his face. He's _big_ now.

"Hi." The smile widens even further. "Hi," he repeats. "I'm Brendon."

The story could end here, of course.

But then there's the part where Brendon goes about wooing Spencer. And then there's the part where Brendon's family finds out and orders an ultimatum. Where Brendon has to tell Spencer what he is. That if Spencer doesn't believe then Brendon has to go back.

But there's also the part where Jon comes looking for Brendon and Brendon's all, _JONNNNN_ and Spencer's all, _SKUNNNNNNKDNW_. And the part where Jon kind of falls in love with Ryan. (Ryan just thinks it's awesome to have a pet skunk.)

Regardless, it's a fairytale. And a happy one at that.

**Author's Note:**

> [posted in main journal [here](http://prettykitty-aya.livejournal.com/414820.html) on 03/02/11]  
> [x-posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/bandomvalentine/13118.html) on 03/01/11 and [here](http://community.livejournal.com/bandslashmania/1840376.html) on 03/07/11]


End file.
